


Offering

by TheRiverScribe



Series: By the Grace of God [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cage Trauma, Chuck is God, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s11e23 Alpha and Omega, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRiverScribe/pseuds/TheRiverScribe
Summary: Sam Winchester believes he has lost everything.Dean was dead. Castiel banished.And now he was staring at a stranger holding a gun.  All he wanted was to join Dean in the void.Until Chuck arrives with an offer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately after the Season 11 finale, "Alpha and Omega."  
> 

Everything happened too fast.

Dean was gone, blown into the void to save the world yet again.

Castiel was gone, banished from the bunker by a blonde. 

Sam could only stand and stare at the strange woman who was pointing a gun at him. 

The blonde spoke, her words traveling to him through muffling layers of space and time. There was a disconnect between his mind and body.  The air felt thick, like water weighing down his chest. 

“Where is Dean?” she demanded calmly.

 _Dean?_   Sam's eyes darted around the room trying to locate his brother before he remembered.

“Dead,” he choked.  Reality slowly seeped back into the present and suddenly he didn't care.  The gun didn't matter, who she was didn't matter, nothing mattered except the void where Dean existed. 

More words, and then pain burned through Sam's left shoulder as the gun exploded.  He fell back against the pillar and slid to the ground.  For a second, hope bloomed in Sam's chest.  Hope that he would soon join Dean in the void and never again have to figure out how to live alone.  His eyes closed as peace settled beside the hope. 

It would be over soon.

“No,” said a soft familiar voice.

Sam slowly blinked in confusion, frowning when he saw Chuck standing over him.  The image of God smiled and Sam felt warmth surround him. 

He watched Chuck turn toward the woman.  She was staring with wide eyes as He whispered to her.  Sam couldn't make out the words, but the effect was immediate.  Tears poured down her cheeks as she fell to her knees.  Chuck placed His hand on her bowed head and she was gone. 

Silence filled the bunker. 

Sam could only stare, uncomprehending as Chuck returned to kneel next to him.  Ever since the prophet had revealed His true identity to them, Sam had struggled to remind himself that this was _the_ God and not the alcoholic writer of the brothers' biographies.  But now?  The small man's presence filled the bunker's vast space with such power and authority there was no reminder needed. 

Sam's mind tried to shift into overdrive before stalling into silent awe.  The fear that had refused to surface since Dean's departure slammed into him.  His legs slid uselessly against the tile floor as he fought to push his body to standing but Chuck just smiled again.

“Shh, Sam,” Chuck soothed as His hand moved to cup Sam's cheek and wipe away tears Sam didn't know he was shedding. “Everything is going to be okay.  Do you trust Me?”

Words caught in Sam's throat and came out in a half-sob.  He shook his head in confusion and overwhelming emotion before realizing Chuck might interpret it as an answer.  Eyes wide in fear of misunderstanding, he tried to answer again.  “I don't understand...”

Chuck brought up His other hand so both were framing Sam's face.  Warmth infused his entire being like sinking into a hot bath.  Sam floated on it briefly before he understood what he was experiencing—God's love. 

It was perfect and so far beyond anything Sam had ever known or imagined.  So long had he sought after some sign of God's acceptance and forgiveness.  An entire lifetime of prayer had revealed nothing and Sam had eventually resigned himself to the fact that he was possibly too tainted, too wrong, too bad to receive acknowledgment.  It was why he had so easily accepted Lucifer's visions of the Cage as coming from God.  What else did he deserve? 

Sam's eyes closed in shame even as he longed to lose himself in the love and peace that passed all understanding. 

“Open your eyes Sam.” Chuck's voice was soft yet resounding, and Sam obeyed.  He stared into the face of God. “Do you have faith in Me?” 

“Yes,” he whispered and was rewarded with a blinding smile. 

Chuck shifted forward until their foreheads rested together.  “Sam, My precious child.  You have done more for My creation than any other being in existence.  You carry pain and scars that are soul-deep, and yet you have continued to fight and serve others. I am humbled by your devotion.”

Sam found himself trying to shake his head again although he didn't know what he was trying to deny specifically.  Chuck moved his head back slightly, but the flaring anxiety of rejection quickly dispersed when Sam felt a kiss pressed to his temple.  God pulled back without removing His hands until Sam could see His face. 

“How...?” Sam started, but didn't know how to finish.  _How can You say these things?  How can You stand to touch me?  How can You love me?_

Sadness crept into Chuck's smile and Sam felt a stab of shame knowing he was the cause.  Instead of answering, Chuck continued, “I want to offer you something.  A gift, of sorts.”

“Dean?”  He knew of nothing he needed or wanted more than his brother, alive and well and by his side. 

A soft laugh chased some of the sadness from Chuck's smile and His hands moved up to brush Sam's hair away from his sweaty, tear-streaked face.  “Oh, how I wish Michael and Lucifer had the devotion of you Winchesters.  No, Dean is not a gift I can give you...”

The sob seemed to explode out of Sam's chest.  His eyes squeezed shut and his head fell back hard against the pillar as despair overtook him. 

“Now, none of that, you ridiculous child,” the gentle laughter in Chuck's voice pushed out the cold sorrow.  Sam opened his eyes again and tried to make out Chuck's expression through the flood of fresh tears.  “Dean is not a gift I can give you because he is already safe and on his way back to you.  With a gift of his own, if I'm not mistaken.” 

“What?”  Sam gasped, disbelief and hope warring within.   _Dean is alive? Dean is ALIVE?!_

“He is alive and unharmed and will reunite with you soon, I promise.  And he will tell you everything that happened.  But first,” he paused, dropping one hand to cover Sam's blood-soaked chest, “I would like to offer you a chance at healing.” 

The phrasing confused Sam.  Supernatural and divine healing was a common enough occurrence for the Winchester brothers.  Angels and demons had both healed them on countless occasions.  Often it involved nothing more than a tap of fingers against their foreheads after a long hunt.  _A chance at healing_ sounded different. 

“I wasn't exaggerating when I said that your scars were soul-deep.  The Cage was never meant to contain a human—certainly not a human _and_ two angry archangels.  You suffered greatly at the hands of My firstborn children.  Your soul was torn apart, shredded by those who should have protected and cherished it.  I know Castiel tried to help by removing the hallucinations, but he could do nothing to heal the soul.  No one can.”  He sighed and continued running his fingers through Sam's tangled hair with care and comfort.  “Souls are tricky things.  Truly, My most complicated creation.  Even I cannot simply heal this type of damage the same as I would a physical body.” 

“But what...I mean, I thought you...” Sam couldn't seem to get his thoughts and words to cooperate. 

“I cannot create _more_ soul to replace the torn pieces Death recovered from the Cage.  But I can infuse it with My grace and knit the two together.” 

Breath and words caught in Sam's throat as he realized the magnitude of the gift being offered.  He clumsily brought one of his hands up to cover the one Chuck had resting on his chest.  _Why?_ was the only thought racing through his mind. 

Chuck answered him as though he had spoken the question.  “Because I want to thank you for your sacrifices.  Because I want to reward you for your struggles.  And because I want you to have the chance to heal from your wounds.  It will not be easy, though,” the sudden wry smile reminded Sam of Gabriel, as did Chuck's next words. “I can't just snap My fingers and make this go away or get better.”

Sam smiled at the distant memory of the trickster archangel.  

“And it will change you.” 

That immediately brought Sam back to the present.  “How?”

“Well,” Chuck sighed and moved the hand from Sam's hair to trace the boy's frowning brow, “I'm not entirely sure.  The closest experience I have with seeing a soul and grace combined were the Nephilim of old.  But this will be different.  You will not be a child born of human and angel.  You will be a human infused with _My_ grace.  Which, as you may imagine, is quite a bit more potent than even the archangels.”

Sam was reeling, overwhelmed by a war of gratitude and fear.  He could only repeat his mental question from before.  “Why?”

Chuck seemed to understand the multiple questions behind Sam's one-word.  _Why is this necessary?  Why such an extreme offer?  Why is he willing to go so far to help Sam?_

“Like I said, I can't just snap My fingers and make everything better for you.  And just as the Cage was never meant to hold a human, the human mind was never meant to spend centuries in the Cage.  Your mind has never been able to fully integrate and comprehend the memories and experiences from that time.  And it never will as long as it remains completely human.  They will continue to fester in the back of your mind until it breaks and the insanity returns.  The scars on your soul are also unraveling,” His hand dropped from the boy's face to his chest so He was cradling Sam's hand between both of His, “This weariness you feel now will only continue to grow until both your mind and soul break apart.  And then it will be too late.”

Sam sucked in a breath as he realized what Chuck was saying.  That he was dying in ways that went beyond the physical.  That He was offering a second chance.  That God _wanted_ Sam to have a second chance.  “So, I would be like the Nephilim?”

“Well,” Chuck started, then shrugged, “maybe?  You may be more like an actual angel, but like I said, this is all kinda unknown.  You will be a new creation, made with a part of Me.  You will still be Sam, still have all your memories and such.  Just...more.”

Sam gripped Chuck's hand with his fingers and felt God respond with a reassuring squeeze.  Looking into that fathomless gaze, Sam took a stilted breath and nodded.

“Yes?”  Chuck asked.

“Yes,” Sam said.  He gave a quick half-smile and tried to sit up more only to hiss in pain as his shoulder reminded him that he'd just been shot. 

“Easy there,” Chuck said, hands shifting to Sam's shoulders to prevent the hunter from moving more.  “How about we get you somewhere more comfortable and then we'll begin.”

Sam blinked and found himself laying on the bed in his room of the bunker.  There had been no gesture or sound to indicate Chuck moving them.  His body sank into the familiar softness of his mattress and closed his eyes in relief as his muscles finally had the chance to relax. 

They opened again when he felt the mattress sink down next to him.  Chuck sat by his side, one hand again moving to brush Sam's hair back from his face.  “There, that's better.  Now, I'm going to put you to sleep so I can work.  I imagine soul-touching is not something you will want to be awake for.” 

Sam cringed at the memories of both Castiel and Lucifer plunging their hands into his chest, and pain without measure.  “Yeah, good plan.”

Chuck smiled reassuringly.  “I may not be here when you wake up.  My sister and I have our own healing We need to do, and I shouldn't keep Her waiting too long.  But rest assured, your brother will be here soon.  As will Castiel.  Okay?” 

“Wait!” Sam cried as fingers moved toward his forehead in a familiar gesture.  “I... I just,” he blinked away a resurgence of tears as he realized this might be his last chance to speak to God face-to-face.  Chuck remained still, the picture of eternal patience.  It took a few shaky breaths before Sam could continue.  He could only think of one thing to say.  “Thank you.” 

Chuck leaned in to kiss his forehead again, and Sam felt himself drift away on a sea of warmth and love. 

He was not aware of Chuck pulling out his soul, or the blinding flood of grace that filled the room to encircle the tiny sphere of dimming light.  He didn't hear God whisper words of love in Enochian to his soul as He masterfully wove His own grace together with the splintered tendrils.  He didn't feel God cradle His newest and most precious creation in gentle palms before tenderly placing it back within Sam's body. 

And he certainly wasn't conscious of his new grace-soul connecting back with its physical vessel.  Light grew from within Sam's body as they merged and changed together.  The grace-soul recognized that this human body would not sustain it in its current form and so rebuilt its vessel using the matter and energy and DNA to reform.

Chuck smiled at the much smaller form that was left as the light faded back to normal.  He probably should have mentioned to Sam that angels aged at a much slower rate than humans.  They had to in order to acclimate to their power and abilities as wavelengths of celestial intent.  Now, Sam would have the chance to heal, process all the trauma and memories of both the Cage and Earth, and truly have the second chance he deserved. 

He leaned down to kiss the top of His boy's head a third and final time.  “Sleep well, little one.  You have so much to look forward to when you awake.” 

And then He was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come be my friend on Tumblr @theriverscribe  
> Comments are soul food!  
> 

**Works inspired by this one:**

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